


An Inclination Towards Reverence

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Character studies through smut: my brand, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Huey is Very In Love, and neither of them have ever had anything resembling sex ed in their lives, so oral sex is a revelation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 12:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10360503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: Huey wants to do something new for Monica.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *drops all my sex headcanons for Huey in front of your eyes, adds a huge dollop of sappiness, and then sprints off into the distance, never to be seen again*

Monica is _beautiful_ with her clothes off.

_Beyond_ beautiful. Every time she lets Huey raise her shift over her head and set it aside, his heart beats fast at the sight of her. He is not inclined towards reverence, but the shape of her body inspires something like that in him. He would never tell her this—because he knows it’s stupid—but when he touches her, when he kisses her, it almost feels like worship. Like he’s trying to convey just a little bit of the awe he feels and offer it back to her.

He isn’t as comfortable with nakedness as she is. In part because he’s _scrawny_ compared to her, and he knows it. She doesn’t seem to mind, and whenever he takes off his shirt she stares as if she can’t get enough of him, but he’s still shy about it.

Besides, he would rather focus on her than indulge the desires that twist in his core and pound in his head. She is not something for him to satisfy himself against; she is the woman he loves, and he isn’t good at conveying that out loud so he at least wants to make sure he can show it.

“Monica,” he murmurs tonight, his lips against her throat and his hand resting in the tangle of hair between her thighs. “Can I try something else this time?”

He can feel her pulse beat fast against his skin. “Wh-what is it?”

“I want…” He pulls back to look at her. She’s blushing, just like he is. He traces his fingers over her folds very gently and sees pleasure cross her face; his flush deepens. “I want to try kissing you down here, Monica.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“If you think you’d like that, I mean. I don’t really know whether it will feel good…”

But the look on her face is unmistakably one of desire, and her breath is coming faster than it was a second ago. “Um. I think I-I’d like to t-try it,” she says, her voice squeaking a little. “How should we…?”

That, Huey doesn’t know. This had just been a vague idea of his, a sense that if she liked the feel of his lips on her shoulders and breasts, she might like them down there, too. And the thought had inspired in him the dizzy, heated feeling that he now knew was his own desire. He doesn’t trust that feeling enough to let it dictate an entire encounter, but his instincts have proven effective in the past.

“Lean back against the headboard, maybe?” he suggests. “And I’ll lie on my stomach.”

“O-okay.”

She does so, her knees trembling a little as she spreads them for him. He can tell that she’s as nervous as she is eager, so rather than put his plan into motion right away he rests one hand on her knee and cups the other against her jaw and kisses her. She kisses back as fiercely as ever, pulling him close between her legs, and honestly from here they could do what they’ve done before, their bodies intertwining and their pleasure pushed over the edge by friction alone. But in a moment, Monica takes a deep breath and traces Huey’s cheek with one hand.

“I’m ready,” she says.

Huey nods once and then begins to kiss his way down her body, inching backwards on the bed as he does so. He kisses her neck—her clavicle—her breasts—her stomach—and with each touch of his lips, she makes a hum of pleasure that’s almost musical. It makes his head spin with how much he loves her.

So he wets his lips with his tongue, presses her hair out of the way with one hand, and touches his mouth to the sensitive skin between her legs.

She jerks when he makes contact and lets out a sound that’s almost a yelp, so he raises his head at once.

“Was that okay?”

But a single look at her face is enough to reassure him that her reaction had not been one of distress. Her face is flushed and her eyes are wide with amazement as she looks at him.

“Can you do that again?” she asks in a quivering voice.

He nods readily and lowers his lips back to her skin. The kiss is longer this time, less hesitant; he dares to suck lightly on her folds and is rewarded with a whimper. He can hear Monica’s breath coming fast from over his head.

“Huey,” she says a moment later, sounding dazed, “this was a very good idea.”

It pleases him inordinately to hear her say that, and he finds himself smirking against her inner thigh. On a whim, he kisses there, too, and it elicits a quiet moan from Monica. He traces over her hips with his hands.

“Can I try using my ton—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Monica answers before his question is complete.

So he ventures his tongue past his lips and licks—her thigh, first, coaxing a long sigh out of her. He kisses it just as he does less intimate places, and the intimacy deepens her reactions. Her legs tremble around his head, and her hand finds its way into the hair at the base of his neck, encouraging him. He reaches for her other hand and clasps it, intertwining their fingers. Then he takes a deep breath and presses his tongue between her folds.

Her hand tightens around his. “Oh, Huey…”

“Nn…”

The noise escapes him without conscious thought. She is _warm_ , and soft, with a hint of something wet and silky that doesn’t come from his tongue. When he makes as though to lift his head to ask whether he should continue, her hand instead tugs him closer, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. He licks her again, slower and with more confidence, dragging the flat of his tongue up through her folds towards her front. There is a nub where the folds meet, and Monica releases a frantic gasp when his tongue reaches it—meaning that he should focus there. He rolls the tip of his tongue around it once, then sucks on it, and the shivery sound Monica makes is one of the most beautiful he’s ever heard from her.

Between wetting his lips with his tongue and pressing them once more against her, he realizes:

He _likes_ this.

He likes everything he can do for her, but this—there is something special about _this_. The intimacy of being so closely pressed into her most secret places, the way he is breathing in her scent with every breath and _tasting_ her—it’s—sublime. It’s _transcendent_. And he can feel his own erection pressed urgently against the bed but this is so much more than that. That this excites him is secondary. That it excites _Monica_ , and that she trusts him and allows him to be so intimate with her, is what makes his head spin, what makes him determined to bring her to climax with his mouth alone. So he devotes himself to learning what she likes best by focusing on the sounds she makes and the quivers that wrack her body. Her legs settle over his shoulders and he presses his mouth flush to her. She likes when he sucks on her folds—she likes when he pays attention to the nub at their junction—she likes when he murmurs her name against her, so he does it over and over—

He doesn’t know how much time passes before a sharp gasp indicates her climax. Her legs tremble around him and her breath comes ragged and finally she says “ _Huey_ ,” in a voice full of awe.

That is when he finally lifts his head from her. Wiping his mouth in his sleeve, he rearranges himself on the bed so that he’s lying next to her. She shifts onto her side to embrace him.

When their lips meet in a kiss, though, she jerks back a little. Huey looks at her, puzzled, and sees that her face is tinged pink.

“Is something wrong?”

“I-is that what I taste like?” she asks hesitantly, and her blush deepens.

Huey touches the tip of his tongue to his lips, subconsciously, and finds that yes, the warm, earthy taste of Monica’s skin still lingers there. He nods, and Monica glances away.

“Is it okay?” she asks.

Huey touches her chin to guide her gaze back to him. “It’s _wonderful_ ,” he promises her.

“R-really? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again…”

“Monica, I loved that.” He is dizzy with how sincerely he means it. “Did you like it?”

“Huey, it was _amazing_.”

Yearning trembles in her voice and she is so _beautiful_. They both lean in for another kiss, haltingly; then their lips meet and Monica doesn’t pull backwards this time. Huey traces his palm down her side and moans quietly into her mouth.

And then her hand moves down his body, too, and slips between his legs, and he cries out. He is so sensitive that he aches. He is so sensitive that he groans again, through gritted teeth, before he can summon the will to protest, “Monica—you don’t have to—”

“But _can_ I?” she asks, and the same yearning is in her voice as before. Her hand has stilled where it rests against his groin but it’s taking everything in him to keep his hips from pushing forward. Her eyes are burning. His must be, too. She withdraws her hand to his waistband hesitantly, but her expression does not change. “Huey, I… I _want_ to. For you.”

He reddens. There is still part of him that wants to tell her that she does not have to satisfy his greedy body: that her mere existence is enough to satisfy the longing in his heart. But now he is the one shaking with need. He finds himself nodding, granting wordless permission—gasping when she reaches past his pants and strokes his bare skin.

In a moment they have shifted so that they are both sitting up, Huey propped up against the headboard and Monica pressed close to him. She has pulled his pants down so that she can wrap her hand around him, and her awed eyes keep drifting from his face to his erection and back again. He can’t look away from her. He can’t stop the sounds that escape him as keening whines. Before long he feels everything in him coiled tight and ready and he chokes out, “Monica, I—I’m about to, ngkh—ah—”

Rather than pull back at the warning, she leans in and catches his lips with hers in a deep kiss. He groans and comes in her hand. The force of his release leaves him reeling, and as Monica’s kiss grows gentler, he pulls her close and lets their bodies rest together. Their breaths mingle, and Huey closes his eyes.

There is something sacred and glowing here between them—there must be. Sensation and physiology alone cannot account for how vibrantly Huey feels Monica’s warmth against his, how intimately he can feel her heartbeat, or how much _joy_ that brings him. For years, he would have scorned this joy; now his heart clenches at the thought of ever having to give it up. Monica shifts, and Huey’s arms tighten around her unconsciously, not yet ready for her to leave. But she is only moving to kiss the soft underside of his jaw.

“I love you, Huey,” she breathes, and nothing brings him more peace than to answer in kind.

 


End file.
